Opening Doors (Pezberry Week - Day Three: College Roommates)
by images-in-words
Summary: It's been a long first morning here at NYADA, where they've just unpacked her life from the SUV they'd driven to New York all the way from Lima. Rachel's still watching her fathers leave when a stunningly beautiful girl with skin as dark and creamy as caramel walks up to her and drops a pair of suitcases at her feet. "Hey. I'm Santana Lopez. You must be my roommate."


**PEZBERRY WEEK 2016 – DAY THREE – COLLEGE ROOMMATES**

 _ **Opening Doors**_

Rachel stands just outside her newly decorated dorm room and watches as her fathers walk down the hallway to where the elevator doors are groaning as they open. It's been a long first morning here at NYADA, where they've just unpacked her life from the SUV they'd driven to New York all the way from Lima. There's a nervous element to her smile, knowing that she's just become the epitome of a small town girl trying to make good in the big city. The two men are still waving and blowing kisses at her, who's standing just outside her door, when the elevator doors slide shut.

She's still standing there, smiling, when a stunningly beautiful girl with skin as dark and creamy as caramel walks up to her and drops a pair of suitcases at her feet, and for the second time that day, she's startled out of her thoughts. This girl is so lovely that for once, she's unable to speak.

Fortunately, the other girl is not.

"Hey. I'm Santana Lopez. You must be my roommate," she says, offering her hand for Rachel to shake. Unfortunately, Rachel hasn't been able to tear her gaze away from Santana's dark eyes

and long, dark hair, spilling down her back in loose waves, so the other girl has to resort to snapping her fingers in front of Rachel's face.

"Hello? You _are_ my roommate, right? I was _sure_ it was Room L-23..." Santana says, puzzled. Her eyes narrow as she looks up at the number on the door.

That snaps Rachel back to herself. "N-no! I mean, yes – _yes,_ this is the right room. L-23, at your service." She smiles the dazzlingly bright show smile that had helped her win dozens of talent competitions and a national Glee Club championship back home in Ohio.

"Huh. Okay, that's good. So, tiny – you got a name? Or do I have to guess?" Santana asks tartly, forcing Rachel to step out of the way by dragging the two suitcases into the room.

"Yes, I do, and it is _not_ 'tiny!'" Rachel fumes, stamping her foot for emphasis on the last word. "I'll have you know that I am actually only slightly below average height for an American female. Five foot two or thereabouts, to be exact."

"That's cute. So how about it?" Santana hefts one of the fairly large pieces of luggage onto the bed that Rachel hasn't claimed, unzips it and opens it up, revealing a plethora of brightly colored – and rather small – pieces of clothing.

"How about what?"

"Your name. I hope it's as cute as you are. There's nothing quite so tragic as a cute girl with a not-so-cute name. It kind of cancels out the cuteness, and then what are you left with?"

Whatever else Rachel had been planning to say flies right out of her head as her brain short-circuits. This...this _goddess_ thinks she's cute? Her, Rachel Berry, _cute?_

"I'm...I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry. Very pleased to meet you," she beams, sticking out her hand as Santana had a few moments earlier. "Welcome to our room. I'll be happy to provide you with whatever decorating assistance you may need. It's one of my talents."

The skin on Santana's hand proves to be as soft and smooth as it looks, and Rachel revels in the warmth of it as they shake.

"Rachel Berry, huh? Well, that's a cute name. I like it. Nice to meet you, Rachel."

Santana's wide smile is bright enough to light up the entire room. Rachel has to fight to keep herself from swooning. She's seen pretty girls before – in fact, she'd told her best friend Quinn, a statuesque, pale-skinned blonde who looked like a model or a movie star, that she was the prettiest girl she'd ever seen – but this Santana Lopez is something else again. She's exotic, mysterious, outrageously sexy and completely alluring, even dressed simply in a red T-shirt, black jacket and skintight jeans. Rachel's pretty sure that there wasn't anybody who looked like her back in Lima.

Rachel's also known for a while that she's attracted to girls - which, growing up in a small Ohio town with two gay fathers, wasn't easy for her to accept at first; she hated feeling like a walking stereotype, but the love and support she'd received from her dads when she came out to them had made it a lot less difficult than it might otherwise have been. She'd read and heard about other kids from their backwards, conservative town who'd had a much tougher time with it, kids who were thrown out of the house and disowned by their parents, ending up living on the streets in Columbus or Cincinnati, or had been mocked and bullied so mercilessly that they'd committed suicide rather than try to live as who they really were.

So while the cautious, wary part of Rachel's mind warns her that Santana is most likely straight, and therefore would not be receptive to any romantic overtures she might initiate, the intuitive part of her insists that there's something about the raven-haired beauty that makes her think she might actually have a chance with her – unless, of course, Santana had a significant other wherever the girl called home, or attending another school somewhere.

"So what's your major, Rachel Berry? I'm a double major – vocal performance and music production. I want to be able to record, produce and engineer all my own stuff so that I don't have to listen to some empty suit tell me what to do with my music one day."

"You're a vocal performance major too? Oh, that's wonderful!" Rachel claps her hands in delight. "We'll probably be in a lot of classes together, although my concentration is in musical theater rather than production."

"Musical theater – like, Broadway, right? Cool. I'm more of a pop / rock girl myself, but I can bust out a tune from _RENT_ or _Wicked_ every now and then, when the mood strikes me."

"Yes! I can totally see you as Mimi in _RENT,_ singing _Out Tonight_ or _Light My Candle._ You have that sort of wild look about you."

"Get _out_ of my head!" Santana laughs. She finds Rachel's enthusiasm completely endearing and infectious. "How did you know that those are my favorite songs from that show?"

Rachel beams at the praise. "Honestly, I was just guessing - but I generally have a pretty good sense about these things."

"Oh, really? And what _else_ do you have a sense about?" Santana's voice has suddenly become a sultry purr, and a shiver ripples down Rachel's spine. Back in high school, she hadn't always been able to tell when someone was flirting with her, but that? _That_ was definitely flirting.

 _Intuition – 1, caution – 0._

"Well...I sense that you're getting hungry, so why don't we finish unpacking and getting organized, and then go have lunch somewhere?"

"Mmm, that sounds like a _capital_ idea. I like the way you think, Rachel Berry. This looks like the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"I completely agree," Rachel says, and they proceed to bustle about the room trying to get their room set up as quickly as possible, because neither of them wants to wait too long to get to know each other better.

They're sitting in a Chinese restaurant just a couple of blocks away from the dorm, and it's hard for Rachel to determine which she likes more: eating vegetable lo mein, or watching Santana eat vegetable lo mein. The girl somehow manages to make the act of slurping down noodles incredibly sexy and erotic, and the pursing of her full, red lips and the drawn out sounds of enjoyment that have been coming from them have had Rachel shifting and squirming in her chair for practically the whole time they've been there. She's never been so immediately attracted to someone before, and it's driving her absolutely _crazy._

For her part, Santana's having a tough time looking away from Rachel's large, deep, chocolate brown eyes long enough to make sure she's properly grasping the long, slender noodles with her chop sticks. Rachel's energy and humor has kept her engaged and amused from the moment they'd sat down at the table, and the encyclopedic knowledge of art, film, music and – surprisingly – pop culture she's displayed is truly impressive. She hasn't felt drawn to someone in this way in a long time. It's all she can do to keep herself from blurting out how adorable she thinks Rachel is, scant hours after meeting her.

On the way back from the restaurant, they talk about their home towns (Rachel learns that Santana is actually from upstate New York, while Santana, surprisingly, finds Rachel's stories about Lima and the Glee Club completely fascinating), their parents (Santana's parents are both doctors who had hoped their only child would follow in their footsteps, and are not entirely thrilled with her desire to go into the performing arts, unlike Rachel's, who couldn't be more supportive), and their hopes and expectations for the semester that's about to begin. It is, indeed, the start of what they already know is going to be a very special and important relationship in their lives, and it doesn't feel at all strange to either girl when they find their hands clasped together as they walk along the busy New York city sidewalk, every now and then stopping to point out, look at, comment on or laugh about something particularly interesting or amusing.

Once they've returned to the dorm and start moving about the room, putting books and framed pictures on shelves and desks, taping posters on the walls, and stocking the bathroom to overflowing with hair and skin products, each furtively watches the other from the corner of her eye. Santana appreciates the delicate grace Rachel displays, thanks to her years of dance training, while Rachel finds herself intrigued by the lithe, supple athleticism of Santana's movements. The air between them becomes charged with the electricity of attraction, and it becomes clear to both girls that something is definitely going to happen between them before too long. It's not a question of _if,_ but _when._

Yes, this is _definitely_ going to be an interesting school year.

* * *

 **TO BE CONTINUED IN DAY FOUR – IT KEEPS HAPPENING!**


End file.
